Afterwards
by Yijasha
Summary: 2nd person. "Dedicated to Jack, Madeline and Jazz Fenton as well as Sam Manson and Tucker Foley; my loving friends and family. I am so sorry."
1. Maybe this'll help?

Rated for language.

I do not own Danny Phantom.

Books are stacked on numerous shelves against all of the walls around you. The lighting is dim yet, you notice a lone dull red book sitting in the middle of the only table in the room. You have no recollection of how you ended up here and upon further inspection you realize there are no doors in the facility, a flash of fear flood your body for a mere moment before you recollect yourself. Determination fills your features as you approach the inviting book. The room has an eerie silence to it, which leads you to constantly look about trying to catch sight of any immediate danger.

Finally the book is only a foot away from you now. You take hold of it and bring it closer to your face in order to read the words on the cover:

**The Dark Times**

**Daniel Fenton**

You don't know why but you're certain that this book will hold nothing but truth. You also feel a sense of dread as you turn the book over and read the words engraved on the back;

"_Dedicated to Jack, Madeline and Jazz Fenton as well as Sam Manson and Tucker Foley; my loving friends and family. I am so sorry."_

It is that last sentence that catches your attention and fills you with complex emotions that you do not yet understand. Unconsciously you pull out the nearest chair and sit down while you open the book. There is not a copyrights page which you find odd. (Then again, you're beginning to get used to the strangeness. So many strange things happening, you're beginning to disregard some of them.) The first two pages are blank but the third has an inscription:

_What is written is true though I wish it were fiction. Be warned this is not a happy tale._

_-A warning from the author_

You flip the page and begin to read.

* * *

When I was younger my sister used to tell me that talking about my problems helped. To this day I'm still uncertain as to the degree and category of "help" talking about it can give.

At this point though, I figure it can only help.

Where to start is the question. The beginning? Nah, that part only had a few problems. Nothing all that noteworthy but I guess every story should start at the beginning. There isn't much to talk about regarding the beginning. I was born and raised under adults who hunted ghosts and built ghost related items for a career. A typical childhood right? Heh, not really.

Making friends was a challenge for my sister Jazz and I. Kids used to hear things about my family from their parents and would say nasty things about my mother and father. Thus, by association, would make fun of us Fenton kids. Classmates would call us "freaks" and "weirdos". I remember often wishing I could be just like everyone else living in a normal family, being a normal person. In 6th grade it got to the point where teachers would call for meetings with my parents desiring to investigate whether or not I was being raised in a healthy and "proper" environment.

I'm rambling.

My first friends Sam Manson and Tucker Foley looked past the weird relatives and accepted me for who I was. They were so wonderful. Tucker became a renound techno geek. Knew everything there was to know about technology. Plus he was a total smart ass. He helped make rough and tough situations funny and less intense. He always had his hair really short and hidden beneath his red barrette. Then there was Sam… Just thinking about her hurts. She was one of the most amazing people I've ever met. She was bold, daring, intelligent, and a fearsome force to be reckoned with. She fought for what she believed in and she was my inspiration. Her shoulder length black hair and violet eyes haunt me still.

They were the best friends, and sidekicks, one could ever ask for and I didn't deserve them.

Ah yes, I believe I hadn't revealed the most important and key part of my past. Something that would make anyone stop listening and try to have me committed.

I was a superhero back in the day. I was only a kid. A kid that wanted to be normal and guess what happened? My ghost hunting parents created a ghost portal that wouldn't turn on; stepping into it on a dare I just so happened to trip while in the machine. Stupid on button was on the inside of it. I swear the universe had a vendetta against me.

Ten thousand volts of electricity half killed me and when I awoke my usually black shaggy hair was a snow white and my baby blue eyes were a toxic green. I had turned into some sort of half-human half-ghost hybrid.

After a short period of time I used my ghost half for good and fought other ghosts. I had lots of battles and received all sorts of stress from all kinds of situations I got into due to my ghost status in an anti-ghost home.

Then the Disasteroid appeared and my identity was revealed. Initially I thought it'd be okay and that everything would turn out alright.

Too many memories I can't organize. I'll try to start this up at a later date.

Dan.


	2. You flip the page

I do not own Danny Phantom

You flip the page.

* * *

Okay, I'm going to try again.

Last time I started up about the beginning and ended with the Disasteroid and my identity being revealed.

Why is this so hard?

Well, things didn't really go all that well after I revealed my identity. Actually no, that's not right. I'm trying to remember what happened when…

I revealed who I was to a small group of people which most of them were residents of my hometown Amity Park. I asked them not to tell anyone about my secret and wouldn't you know it I found a bunch of reporters camping outside my house 3 days later. Back then I didn't really think much of this betrayal but these days… Oh, it enrages me.

I need to calm down.

* * *

Okay.

I remember the first week actually being pretty excited about it. I mean common, I was a teenaged kid getting attention from the entire world! I felt like I meant something and that I truly was a hero! That I was important I mean, of course I was seeing as how I saved the world, but it was nice to get some positive feedback for it.

Before my secret was revealed and before that whole asteroid (that was half the size of the earth) almost crashed into us I was often seen as a villain. Ghosts didn't like me so they liked to set me up for crimes that I didn't commit and my parents didn't like my ghost persona so they liked to blame Danny Phantom whenever bad things happened. I often was chased around by cops and ghost hunters who wanted to take me apart "molecule by molecule". Back then, I saw it all as harmless but these days when I reflect on it… Damn, I have no idea how I managed to get any sleep!

Sam, Tucker and I were walking down a street (I can't remember the name), being chased by numerous reporters. I think I was holding Sam's hand; we were dating at this point. I remember asking Sam if she was bothered by the attention. She admitted to me that yes, yes she was getting bothered by it. I then proceeded to call forth my ghost half and flew her away from the reporters.

Oh yeah, I had to call up my ghost half. That stuff was strange. My parents did a few experiments as to why I had an entirely separate ghost half from my human. Dad and mom were actually worried about it; they said it wasn't healthy, natural, or even possible for a ghost to be as repressed as it was with me when I was in my human form. They were worried about how separate my ghost and human halves were. They used to send me texts scattered through the day asking how I was and if I felt okay.

Well, I didn't have to worry about that for too long.

Dammit! I'm getting distracted. Gosh, when I read over what I've written it's just so… All over the place! I wish I had paid more attention in Mr. Lancer's classes. Then again, I doubt it'd be of any use at this point. I shouldn't worry about it. Jazz told me that this exercise is about expressing myself and that I shouldn't worry about how scattered it all is.

So I was flying Sam away from reporters. Right. Poor Tuck, I left him behind. He probably got trampled… again. When he finally got to school he probably made a half sincere comment about how I left him behind to be alone with Sam and probably said something along the lines of "bros come before hoes" which probably lead to Sam kicking him in the shins with her combat boots.

I can't quite remember it (I don't want to remember it) but I know I was in my Junior year at Casper High. I do remember Dash not hating me. My old nemesis Dash Baxter, blonde buff Jock who was as intelligent as a loaf of bread and used to pick on anyone who wasn't popular, had become a sort of friend to me. Well, a positive acquaintance if you will. He liked Phantom and when he found out we were one in the same he was kind to me as well. I just didn't like him back, it was hard letting go of the slight anger I had towards him for bullying me all those years.

He asked if I wanted to play some football after school. "Nothing competitive just for good fun," he said. I remember declining because I still wasn't used to him being nice to me and didn't trust him just yet. After school, I went to Sam's house and we watched that new horror movie Bone Blade III in her surround sound theatrical basement (Sam's parents were extremely wealthy). There may have been a ghost attack but it wasn't a significant one if there was. I remember walking Tucker home before flying to my own residence.

I turned human before walking through the front door and to my surprise my parents and older ginger haired sister were sitting there, in our living room, staring at me with forlorn expressions on their faces.

"What's wrong?" I was so tense and afraid.

"Dan-o, you got a letter," Dad responded grabbing a letter from the end table, which he had been sitting next to, and holding it out to me.

I grabbed hold of it and my fear proved legitimate as I looked upon the return address.

_Guys in White Headquarters_

_919 19th St._

_Washington, DC 20006_

I remember thinking these exact words: _Oh no._

And… and… Shit! I'm sorry, I can't. I need to calm down before I end up breaking something. I'm trying but… This is just too much. I'll continue this later.

Dan.

* * *

You look up from the book and wipe some sweat away from your brow that accumulated due to the temperature of the room being lightly too warm for your liking. You feel confused yet mystified about this person that you hardly know. You know impending doom is on the horizon for this poor soul, yet you are uncertain as to what it may be. You begin to develop theories about his fate and the fates of those he cares about and begin to fantasize about who these humorously entitled _Guys in White _are. Yet, you know the only way to find out is by continuing your journey by reading his.

That is what you do, you take a deep breath, return your attentions to the papers bound in leather and held firmly in your grip, and flip the page.

* * *

A quick author's note.

First, I felt bad at the really short intro chapter so I went ahead and gave you the next one.

Second, I have never written anything in second person before so I'd love any advise or tips on that. Contrary to other works I have done in the past I will not be placing many authors notes into this piece I am very passionate about the story line 'cause I have been mentally writing this story for numerous years (as well as many other stories) but I finally got up the nerve to go ahead and write it.

I love feedback, be it positive or negative, feel free to review.


	3. Until then, read

I do not own Danny Phantom.

* * *

I was able to get down more than I expected last time so I'll probably do something similar and stop writing for an hour or so while I get my temper under control. Here's hoping for the best, don't want to disappoint Jazz do we?

The Guys in White, former top secret government funded organization designed to eliminate ghost threats. Most of the time these guys were comical, at best, when attempting to capture ghosts. However things change, especially when this organization found out that I, a scientific impossibility, existed.

Things change and seemingly harmless men become monsters.

Ah, I'm going to need another break.

* * *

I had received a letter from them asking that I show up in court. The government basically wanted to figure out if I was enough of a human to classify as one and for it to be illegal to hunt me down like a wild animal. I was skeptical, why would a ghost hunting organization want to prove my humanity so I can't be hunted and experimented on? Mom and dad got all the data we'd ever need on my DNA structure brain wave capacity and internal organ functions that'd prove my humanity to any court.

I remember being surprised that the Guys in White had been trying to prove I was more so a ghost that needed to be experimented on then a human to be left alone. I'm not sure I'm putting this right so I'll rephrase. The Guys in White never argued my humanity but argued that I'd be more useful for my country in the never ending fight against ghosts than if they just let me go and be left un-experimented on.

I was so happy that we won.

The news put such a negative light on the Guy in White and their attempts to get the legal rights to dissect me that the U.S. government disbanded that branch of research and defense (apparently they were really afraid of the negative publicity). I thought the Guys in White were gone forever and would never interfere in my life again.

That's not what happened.

I… They came back and they… I-I can't talk about it. Not yet.

I'm sorry.

Danny.

* * *

You place the book onto the table in a way that will ensure that your page does not become lost before you stand from your seat. Slowly, you begin to walk about the room inspecting various bookshelves whilst searching desperately for some windows or doors or even cracks in the walls that may help you discern your location. After a long and extensive journey through your library you realize that there is nothing to find. You make your way back to your book, but when you arrive the setting is not the same as when you left it. The book is closed with a folded piece of paper bookmarking it with a water bottle and bowl of fruit next to it. You feel fear as you gaze upon the concrete evidence that you are not alone in this room. Slowly you approach the book and upon opening it you grab hold of the folded paper and unravel it to read its contents:

"_You are lost but do not fear someone is coming to save you. _

_Until then, read. Your very life depends on it."_

_~ C_

You are afraid and confused. You know nothing of your situation, even less of yourself, and you most definitely cannot remember if you know someone with a name with C. You push away your confusion as you grab the bottle and drink some water. You then munch on some fruit and do as the note commands.

You continue to read.


	4. Don't go

I do not own Danny Phantom.

* * *

Jazz hasn't been well. She doesn't like to talk about it and even tries to hide it. I know though. I notice the grimaces, winces, and flinches which she tries so desperately to hide from me. I'm really worried about her.

In the past she and I had our disagreements, she being too serious and I being too careless. She was a know-it-all and I was a slacker. I loved her still, despite her terrible ghost catching skills. Even when she knew I was Danny Phantom, I was the only ghost she could catch (even if it was never on purpose)! But now, seeing her pain, all I want to do is make her feel better and make her last forever.

Something I've been learning though, is that there are very few things that last forever.

Knowing of her ailments I've been trying to get her more active and to give her some more emotional stimulation. We stay out and gaze up at the stars up in the trees that are near the cave that we call home. She talked about all of the knowledge she has accumulated since we last spoke while I talk to her about the different star systems and constellations and told her the stories of our youth as we fought ghosts and triumphed over evil.

And yet, she still weakens. I fear she won't last another year.

I don't know what I'd do without her. Ever since the incident all those years ago she's been my rock that I could talk to and rely on to pick me up when I'm too down to move myself. She's saved me from myself. She has seen what I truly am and loves me all the same, loves me unconditionally. Forever sees me as her brother instead of the monster that I know I am. I owe her my life yet I can't save hers? Why am I not able to save the people that I care most about?

Please Jazz, don't leave me. Don't leave me here alone. Don't fade away...

Danny.

* * *

You need a break, what with your heart pounding in your chest and the organ aching in sadness. Although you don't know this man, you feel sympathy towards him. You feel his pain yet do not wish to share it. While you may not understand this, you understand that you cannot read any more than you already have. You stand from your chair and stretch your aching muscles, letting out a moan as you relieve the tension.

Exhaustion is weighing down the thoughts and contemplations previously racing within your mind. You start looking about the library for an ideal piece of furniture which would fit the role of a bed. Your eyes lock onto a red couch that you do not recall being there previously. Your surprise is quickly banished being replaced with relief that you will not be needing to sleep on the wooden floor. You approach the couch and sit on it, sighing in content. While adjusting yourself into the ideal sleeping position, you hear some paper crinkling between the cushions. Curiosity peeking, you search for the source of the noise, eventually coming across a small note which reads:

"_Rest."_

You are uncertain as to whether this note is from the mysterious C, or another unknown resident of your library. However, what with it being a very long and strange day for you, the thought doesn't dwell on the matter as sleep clouds your mind. Your last thoughts consisted of a strong desire for the author's sister to survive, yet knowing deep in your heart that will not be the case.

After all he said so himself that it wasn't a happy tale.


	5. Noisy books

I do not own Danny Phantom.

* * *

You hear a scream. Jerking up into a sitting position immediately you scan the room, noticing that the room looks dimmer and the visibility is worse than it was yesterday. Standing uncertainly, breathing deeply, and at a moderate pace you decide to search, the already thoroughly inspected, library once more. You notice that none of the books, on any of the shelves, have their titles on their spines. Nor do they have the authors. The floorboards creak more with every step, filling the eerie silence with more uncertainty. As you progress, you hear faint wisps of noise rising all around; the sounds enigmatic to your ears. The noise seems as though it is emanating from the bookshelves. Perhaps from the books themselves? Curious you grab the nearest book drawing it closer to your body every noise for a brief second growing louder, sounding similar to that of an angry horde of bees. Panicked, you drop the tome with a little more force than necessary. The moment the book hit the ground, silence filled the air.

You're beginning to get frustrated. No doors or windows, yet it seems others can come and go as they please, and now noisy books? Though you don't remember much, you do know that this situation you are in is far from any normal situation. As you think on this your anger begins to rise. So focused on your anger, you do not see how the room seems to get darker as though it were feeding off your negative energy.

Suddenly, a wave of calm seems to overtake you, allowing you to refocus your mind. _I've got to get out of here_ you think. You come to the conclusion that this place is strange, possibly magical? You know you do not want to stay here any longer than you must. You remember what the note from C said and decide to head back. Perhaps if you finish the book you'll be sent back to wherever you were before?

As you leave, you do not notice the aforementioned section of the library is darker than all of the others.

* * *

I've always had a problem with my temper, even before the ghost powers. Yeah, I could be a laid back guy, but if you threatened my friends or made fun of my family my anger would skyrocket into the atmosphere. That was before I got my powers. After I had that accident I'd get mad at the simplest things and lose my temper quicker than normal. While angry, I don't really think straight and I tend to misuse my powers. I'd overshadow (possess) the person who did the offending action and embarrass them.

I remember possessing Dash often after he'd made fun of me, my family, or my friends. One time I made him dance like a ballerina and walk into the girl's bathroom saying "I belong here." Another time I slammed his head against the lockers multiple times before shoving it into a mop bucket. I always justified my actions, I'd say he deserved it for being so cruel to the uncool kids. Looking back I was never justified in my anger. I was being cruel. Lashing out and letting my fury guide my actions, is not what a hero does.

It's what monsters do.

As I mentioned above, my temper was touchier after getting my powers. Some days, after the Disasteriod yet before the Guys in White, I'd become extremely upset at my mother. At first it was:

"Mom!" I'd cry.

"Yes, Danny?"

"You went into my room! You cleaned my room!" I'd nearly scream. She'd apologize and we'd move on with our lives.

Then after a repeat offense:

"You went into my room! You cleaned my room!"

"Danny?"

"I don't know where anything is! I can't find my ghost hunting equipment! How would you like it if I went into your room and moved everything!"

"Danny! I'm sorry honey! I was only trying to help."

It eventually worsened and escalated to this:

"You went into my room! You cleaned my room!" I'd screamed, my eyes glowing green with a white hot intensity.

"Danny?" She was worried.

"I don't know where anything is! I can't find my ghost hunting equipment! How would you like it if I went into your room and moved everything!"

"Danny!"

"That's exactly what I should do! I should go into your room and blast everything in there into ashes and dust!"

"Danny calm down!"

"You keep doing this Mom! Do you ever listen? Do you even care? The entire world could be placed into jeopardy and it would be all your fault!"

"Danny you're overreacting!"

"I should blast you!" My hands began to fill with ectoplasm.

"Danny!" Mom cried, she grabbed my shoulders and looked me in the eyes, "Honey, this isn't you. Calm down!"

I realized what had been said and took deep breaths, in an attempt to calm myself. I looked up to my mother with sad eyes, I hadn't meant my words. I didn't want things to go so far, my rage had been so consuming I'd almost blasted my own mother because she had done something nice for me.

I felt afraid.

"Let's sit down on the couch," She led me over to the furniture and sat me down, "Your father and I, we've made theories on ghosts in the past. Of course, you're a completely new case and will differ from the norm often but your little display back there… it leads me to believe that there's one theory, you prove correct."

"What is it?"

She began to pat my hair and play with it as she answered, "All ghosts feed off emotions,"

"All of them?" I interrupt, thinking of Spectra, a particular ghost who I encountered feeding off of students' misery in order to keep her looking young.

"Yes, all of them." She nodded before continuing, "Ghosts form when a human feels a strong emotion and is near a source of ectoplasm. Most often the only emotions strong enough to imprint on ectoplasm would be the fear, and perhaps anger, a human feels as they die. Thus, ghosts need more emotional energy to 'feed' on in order to maintain. Some ghosts need a lot of emotional energy and will take noticeable amounts, while others will take so little that the humans will hardly notice it. You, Danny, I'd guess that you feed off of a larger sum of emotions. More than any other documented ghost I'd say."

"But Mom that would mean that I feed off of Sam, Tucker, you…!" I began to panic thinking of all the people I'd been 'feeding' on for the past few years.

"No, you don't feed off of us."

"But Mom you just said-"

"You feed off of yourself." Silence filled the air for mere moments as the words digested in each of our brains.

"I feed- What?"

"Your ghost-half feeds off of your human-halves' emotional energy and therefor amplifies it, making your emotions overstimulated and your emotional reactions out of proportion."

"If I'm feeding off of it, how is it amplified?"

"Ghosts are emotional energy, when your ghost becomes stronger by feeding off of your emotions your human emotions become stronger due to the increase of emotional energy. If you don't spend the extra energy I'd guess that it builds and makes you more sensitive to your emotions. Leading you to overreact to the little things. This is all theory though, we've never seen a half-ghost before."

"Yeah, but it makes sense. I've been more sensitive since I got my powers and it's only been getting worse." I hung my head in shame.

"It's alright Danny, we can help you learn how to control it." Mom said as she hugged me.

"Thanks Mom," I replied hugging her back, I'd hoped that it wasn't all that serious and that Mom and Dad would be able to help me control this new part of myself.

I eventually learned how but that knowledge came at a price.

Blood was the currency.

Dan.

* * *

Author's note:

I'm not sure if my explanation and/or the entire idea works. I came to this conclusion through the knowledge I've accumulated about ghosts (through t.v. shows or internet), other fanfics and their ideas about how Danny scientifically functions, plus in the t.v. show itself Danny's new powers manifested during emotional surges. If you guys have any suggestions or'd like to point out any flaws in the theory; feel free to comment.

Also thanking my reviewers: UltraRecycloVegetarian, Kira Sema, princessofwriting, and my lovely Guest. All reviews are greatly appreciated and yours filled me with boundless determination to finish this story. I'm glad to know you are all enjoying the story.

Thanks again.


End file.
